


Las

by ShannaraIsles



Series: Ena'Vun: The Dawn Will Come [5]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Action, But they have a moment!, Dragon Age Quest: In Your Heart Shall Burn, F/M, Gen, Haven (Dragon Age), I think I'm getting worse at tagging, I'm terrible at action, Non-Graphic Violence, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2017-04-14
Packaged: 2018-10-18 23:02:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10626972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShannaraIsles/pseuds/ShannaraIsles
Summary: In which Haven ceases to be a haven. Part one of In Your Heart Shall Burn.





	

For as long as she had known it, Haven had been bathed in green.

  
The sickly light from the Breach had smothered everything, bleeding the natural colour from the world around her. Even the snow had reflected the ethereal green of the torn Veil, glittering like the sandy shores of the Fade that haunted her dreams. Yet the Breach was sealed, the tear in the Veil drawn closed once more, and suddenly Velen was aware of how vibrantly coloured Haven truly was.

  
From the luscious greens that made up the trees and scrub; to the multi-faceted greys of the rocks; the sparkling clean glimmer of the snow; the teal depths of the ice that covered the lake; the dusky sanded browns of timber and thatch that made up the village itself ... these were all new to her, as though Haven had been just a dream itself until this day. Even now, in the darkness of their first true night in almost half a year, the colours were dancing. More accurately, their Inquisition was celebrating their success at the ruined Temple. The drink was flowing, people laughed and sang and danced ...

  
... and Velen stood apart, unable to shake a vague sense of unease. Her mind kept returning to the vision she had shared with Cassandra, months ago, on that first attempt to close the Breach - to the shadowed figure who had turned Divine Justinia into nothing more than a sacrifice, who had ordered other shadows to kill Velen as an interloper. She might have assumed that he, too, had died at the Conclave, were it not for the fact of the Venatori and the Elder One they served. An army of demons, and Orlais in chaos ... she did not need to imagine it. She had _seen_ it.

  
Her gaze focused on the revels in the village, a soft smile touching her face as she watched them celebrate. The humans, the elves, Varric and Iron Bull ... they were her clan. After months of hardship and threat, they deserved this reprieve. A success to enjoy; to come together in triumph, rather than standing together in adversity as they had done for so long already.

  
Footsteps on the snow alerted her to Cassandra's approach, drawing her out of her thoughts as the Lady Seeker spoke.

  
"Solas confirms that the Heavens are scarred, but calm," she reported, coming to stand beside Velen. "The Breach is sealed."

  
"I would feel better with a second opinion," Velen said warily, unsurprised by Cassandra's knowing glance.

  
"I know you do not trust him," the Seeker agreed in her quiet way. "Nor do I. But he is the closest to an expert we have."

  
"And weren't we lucky he was close at hand when all this started," Velen mused. No, she didn't trust Solas, and not only because he seemed to delight in insulting her people. His presence here, his knowledge ... it was all just a little _too_ convenient for her liking.

  
"He helped us when there was no need for him to remain," Cassandra pointed out.

  
"I know." Velen sighed, letting the woman see her vague smile. "I still don't trust him, though."

  
Cassandra did not argue with her. "We've reports of lingering rifts, and many questions remain, but this ... was a victory." She turned a look that might almost have been proud onto the elven mage at her side. "Word of your heroism has spread."

  
Velen snorted with laughter, shaking her head. "You know how many were involved," she argued, unwilling to accept a story that made her the hero. " _You_ started the Inquisition; Leliana and Josephine did most of the groundwork. Cullen and his soldiers did far more than I did. This mark just put me at the centre of the mages' efforts. It's only luck that put me here at all."

  
"A strange kind of luck," Cassandra murmured, clearly amused by her companion's wriggling. "I am not sure if we need more or less."

  
Velen huffed. "I didn't say it was _good_ luck."

  
"You are in a strange mood." Cassandra chuckled lightly, sobering as she went on. "But you are right. This was a victory of alliance, one of the few in recent memory. With the Breach closed, that alliance will need new focus."

  
"Like answering those questions you mentioned," Velen mused, her eyes turning to look out over the mountains to a faint glow on the horizon. Was it dawn already?

  
"Indeed," Cassandra agreed. "We are still no closer to finding this Elder One."

  
As she spoke, Velen gasped. Bells were suddenly sounding, breaking the tide of joyful celebration with their warning as the glow she had mistaken for dawn grew clearer, marching down the mountain toward them in scattered groups of torches.

  
"Forces approaching," she heard Cullen shout over the dismay of the village. "To arms!"

  
Beside her, Cassandra stared at the increasing torches coming their way. "What the ..."

  
"I think our Elder One has come looking for his revenge," Velen told her, unslinging her staff from her back. "Shall we?"

  
"Yes." Cassandra drew her own sword. "We must get to the gates."

  
The panic was beginning to spread through the village as the two women advanced from the Chantry, avoiding the scrambling rush of soldiers and mages to their battle ready positions. Velen felt, more than saw, Dorian fall in at her back, knowing that the others of their company would seek them out as they went. Sera was next, swinging out of the tavern just ahead of the Iron Bull, both wielding their weapons with enviable ease, given the sheer amount of alcohol they had both imbibed since the celebration began. Varric and Blackwall were already by the gates; Vivienne joined them in the company of Josephine. The only one unaccounted for was Solas, but there was no time to consider the whereabouts of the elven apostate.

  
Cassandra raised her sword to get the commander's attention, her boots skidding on the snow-laden stone. "Cullen?"

  
His expression was grim as he glanced at the group gathering around him. "One watchguard reporting," he told them. "It's a massive force, the bulk over the mountain."

  
Unbidden, Velen's eyes rose to the ridge-line to the east, where the torches continued to appear, marching inexorably toward them. One watchguard, she realised. What had happened to the others on guard? For that matter, where was Leliana? Dragging her gaze from the ever approaching march, she caught the end of Josephine's query.

  
"- under what banner?" the ambassador was asking, no doubt considering an attack to be her own failing.

  
Cullen shook his head. "None."

  
_"None?"_

  
Josephine's squeak was cut off by a sudden slam against the bolted gates nearby. Velen turned automatically to defend them, feeling Cullen and Cassandra flank her. She knew without needing to look that the others had instinctively spread out to cover the entire approach from the gate.

  
"If they're here already, we need to evacuate," Cullen said, his voice tense with anticipation as further thumps shook the great gates.

  
"Vivienne, Varric, take Josephine and get that started," Velen ordered, the words coming without needing conscious thought.

  
"Of course." Vivienne's smooth voice answered for both of them, echoed by Varric's earthier agreement. "Ambassador Montilyet, do come along, my dear."

  
"Boss."

  
Velen felt Iron Bull's hand on her shoulder, stepping back to join Dorian and Blackwall as the Qunari mercenary leader took her place between Cassandra and Cullen. It made sense; keep the mages out of the first line of defence if at all possible, with a single warrior exclusively for their protection. It said a lot about how well their team had meshed over the months that everyone took these places without protest or argument. Even Sera was grim, her bow already taut in her hands, ready to engage whatever came through those gates.

  
The hardened oak shook again with the force exerted on it. And then ...

  
"I can't come in unless you open!"

  
Velen hesitated. That wasn't aggressive. If anything, it sounded desperate. _Young_ and desperate. She pushed between Bull and Cullen, ignoring the strangled protest from Blackwall.

  
"Open the gate," she ordered the gate with a nod, impatient when he looked past her for Cullen's approval. "Now!"

  
Either Cullen had nodded, or her imperious tone had worked, but for whatever reason, he moved to lift the crossbar and pull open one of the gates. The sight that greeted them was not one she expected.

  
Cullen's training ground was littered with bodies, not one of them wearing the colours of the Inquisition. Straight ahead, a single, heavily armoured figure staggered toward them, falling to the packed snow to reveal a slight boy at his back, his face obscured by the most ridiculous hat Velen had ever seen, hands sheathing bloodied daggers at his back. The first of the torches had reached the valley floor, lighting the trees with eerie movement.

  
The boy rushed toward them, held back from Velen by the barring edge of Cullen's sword.

  
"I'm Cole," the boy introduced himself, breathless and urgent as he focused a watery gaze on Velen. "I came to warn you, to help. People are coming to hurt you." He hesitated. "You probably already know -"

  
"What is this?" Velen demanded, unhappy with how harsh her voice sounded. She knew it was fear; she hoped the others didn't. "What's going on?"

  
The boy - Cole - took a deep breath, as though to calm himself. "The templars come to kill you."

  
"Templars?"

  
Cole shied abruptly away from Cullen's angry outburst as the commander stepped closer, lowering his sword as he met Velen's gaze.

  
"Is this the order's response to our talks with the mages?" Cullen demanded of her, and she felt the full force of blame in his furious gaze. If she'd only gone to the templars, this wouldn't be happening. "Attacking blindly?"

  
"The red templars went to the Elder One," Cole interjected, preventing the Dalish mage from countering Cullen's unspoken accusation. "You know him? He knows you. You took his mages."

  
"And delivered the templars into his hands!" Cullen growled.

  
Velen shook her head. "Wait ... _red_ templars?"

  
"They drink the red lyrium," Cole answered her. "It burns worse than fire, the pain almost too much, but the power is worth the pain. So much power ..."

  
"They're _ingesting_ red lyrium?" This time, Cullen wasn't angry; he was horrified.

  
"The Elder One told them to," the boy nodded, turning to point toward a promontory of rock rising above the trees. "There."

  
They followed the line of his pointing arm, watching as a man in jagged red armour crested the rock. Velen felt Cullen tense beside her, heard his sharp intake of breath. He _knew_ that figure. Yet before she could ask the obvious question, another figure stalked into view. This shape towered over the man at his side, twisted and deformed. Even at this distance, they could sense the air of powerful malevolence that radiated from him.

  
Beside Velen, Cole cowered away from the gaze that swept over them. "He's very angry that you took his mages."

  
"Cullen, give me a plan." Velen suddenly snapped out of her thoughts, her mind rushing to the defence of Haven as soldiers came into view on the far side of the lake, too close for comfort or delay. "Anything."

  
The commander didn't answer, his eyes fixed on the armoured figure next to this Elder One Cole had pointed out to them.

  
_"Cullen!"_

  
Velen's snap of his name seemed to drag him out of his private thoughts, the immediacy of their predicament overriding his personal feelings.

  
"Haven is no fortress," he said, and to Velen, at least, it sounded as though he were reminding himself of that fact more than them. They had never planned for anything like this. "If we are to withstand this monster, we must control the battle. You there!" His sharp gaze found the nearest knot of soldiers, all eager for orders. "Man the trebuchets - bring the mountains down on them."

  
"Yes, commander!"

  
As the group readied themselves, Cullen turned his attention to Velen and her companions. "Get out there and hit that force, use everything you can," he told them, and not one of them needed to be told twice. "Buy those men the time they need to load and fire."

  
"Yeah!"

  
Bull's roar of agreement was enough to make even Blackwall crack a tense smile. Velen nodded to her companions, knowing they were more than capable of holding the line, even against red lyrium-crazed templars.

  
"Mages!" she heard Cullen roar, glancing back to find their magical allies filling the gates to their beleaguered Haven. "You ... you have sanction to engage them. That is Samson, he will not make it easy."

  
_Samson?_ Velen's gaze skittered back to the distant figure. So Cullen _had_ recognised him, even at this distance. To know someone with confidence from so far away ... there was definitely a story there. A story she had no time to ask for.

  
With the air around them crackling at the release of magical energy, Cullen drew his sword, offering one last rallying cry. "Inquisition, with the Herald. For your lives - for all of us!"

  
A great roar of sound went up as the Inquisition charged, and Velen roared with them, swept along as much by anger that these red templars dared to attack them as by the enthusiasm of the soldiers and mages to engage their enemy. They reached the first trebuchet well ahead of the enemy crossing the ice. Velen let herself take a moment to assess. Two trebuchets out here, and right now, only one being loaded.

  
"Bull, Cassandra, with me," she ordered. "The rest of you, stay here and keep them off the crew!"

  
The only answer she got came from Blackwall, Sera and Dorian already firing arrows and spells into the scattered charge of the red templars' first line of attack.

  
"Don't die, Herald!"

  
"Not intending to, Warden!"

  
With a jerk of her head, Velen charged past the smithy in the wake of the trebuchet crew that had split off, fire already sparking at her fingertips in preparation for the fight ahead. Bull surged in front of her, roaring obscene battle cries in that thunderous voice of his, drawing the attention of the red templars that had reached their destination ahead of them.

  
Fearless in the face of warriors who seemed somehow _wrong_ , the Inquisition engineers rushed to the trebuchet, daring the violence promised to them by the swords that flashed in their direction through the falling snow. The swords didn't find their mark this time - Velen drew down lightning to arc across the armoured red warriors, striking several, stunning them just enough that Bull and Cassandra reached the threatened crew in time to cut down their aggressors. And now she could see why Cole had named them _red_ templars.

  
They fought like men possessed, seeming not to notice pain or injury, torchlight glinting off the red crystals embedded in their armour, in their skin. Red lyrium sang its sickening song, and the red templars answered. Yet they were the least of the enemies arrayed against them. More than once, Velen and her fellows were driven back by some deformity of man, more red crystal than flesh, spitting those lyrium shards at them with terrifying accuracy. When, at long last, the trebuchets fired, Cassandra's and Bull's armour was peppered with the deadly crystals; Velen's cheek was bleeding from the passage of one such shot that had only missed penetrating deeper than a graze because she had lost her balance and corrected too far.

  
But the trebuchets had fired true - cheers went up as a rumbling wall of snow tumbled down the mountainside to bury the forest before them, and the vanguard army trapped within it.

  
"Yeah!" Iron Bull bellowed, spitting a mouthful of blood onto the body of a red templar at his feet. "See how you like _that!_ "

  
"Herald, are you hurt?" Cassandra turned to ask, but they were given no time to check their injuries.

  
An ear-piercing shriek split the air, drawing all eyes to the sky. To Velen's horror, the black shape of a high dragon crested the mountains, great wings beating with almost lazy slowness and fire lanced from the gaping maw. The flames cut through the settling snow of the avalanche, destroying the natural barrier impeding the advance of the rest of the Elder One's army. And it wasn't done there.

  
Velen found her voice as the deadly beast swung toward the trebuchet she guarded.

  
"Run," she ordered the soldiers. "Back to Haven. _Run!"_

  
The word was no sooner out of her mouth than the trebuchet was destroyed with a single fireball. Velen herself was thrown back with force, screaming in pain as a savage splinter of burning wood pierced her side. She felt the flattening force of air rushing downward at the creature's passage overhead, stunned by the strength of the blast that had knocked them all off their feet. The poor bastards who had been manning the trebuchet hadn't stood a chance.

  
Pulling herself up onto her feet, Velen forced herself to look at the burning bodies of her men. Her _clan_. Fierce fury rose from her heart. How dare they? Not only to attack without warning, but to kill her people, her clan, the only family she had in this world. She would make them _bleed_ for it.

  
"Boss ... we gotta go."

  
"Velen!"

  
She blinked, snapping out of her murderous thoughts to find Bull staunching the flow of blood from her side with one large hand. Cassandra was limping backward from them, toward the gates, one eye worriedly on the sky. The dragon was still circling.

  
Wincing, Velen tore her eyes from the bodies of her people. "All right, let's get back," she conceded reluctantly, pressing her own hand over the bleeding, splintered gash in her side. "We can't do any more out here."

  
At least they had a reasonably clear run back to the gate. Bodies were strewn in their path - mostly red templars, thankfully - but it was the dragon that held their attention, slowing their progress with the need to take cover each time it passed overhead. By the time they reached the gates, Velen was dizzy with loss of blood, her hand slick against the wound above her hip. She leaned back against the sturdy wood as Cullen slammed the gates shut, hissing in pain as Dorian pried her hand away to get a better look at her injury.

  
"What did you _do?_ " he demanded of her, the tone of his voice betraying that the wound was far worse than she had thought.

  
"Lost an argument with an exploding trebuchet," she told him in return, taking in the panic on her friend's face. "You can't heal it, can you?"

  
Dorian shook his head, the fall of his dishevelled hair revealing a bloody lump on his own temple.

  
"It's fine," she tried to assure her friend, glancing around at the rest of them. All there, thank the Creators, but there was a distinct lack of optimism on their faces. "Cullen ... what now?"

  
The commander looked as weary as she felt, though he wasn't carrying any injury that she could see. He glanced at her side, at Dorian's bloody hands, and she read in his face just how bad things were.

  
"We need everyone back to the Chantry," Cullen told her, one hand braced against the heavy door at her back. "It's the only building that might hold against that ... that beast!" He sighed, rolling his shoulders as he straightened. "At this point, just make them work for it."

  
"Right." Velen's eyes turned to her companions. "You heard the man, everyone to the Chantry. Spread out. Gather in as many as you can, but no heroics."

  
"Says the woman bleeding out in front of us," Blackwall pointed out unhelpfully.

  
"I'm fine," she insisted, pushing off the doors to stand. "I just -"

  
But she definitely _wasn't_ fine. If Dorian hadn't been hovering, ready to catch her, she would have collapsed then and there, too weak, too much of her blood on the outside to keep her safely upright any longer.

  
"Maker, woman, you're heavier than you look," the Tevinter mage groaned, heaving her back up onto her feet. "No more fighting for you, methinks."

  
"No, I need to -"

  
Velen's objection was overridden as Cassandra suddenly took charge. "Cullen, take her to the Chantry," she ordered, her voice harsh with necessity. "Do what needs to be done - find Solas to heal her. We will sweep the village and meet you there."

  
Velen had a brief impression of her friends' grim faces nodding in agreement before sure hands lifted her off her feet, cradling her against the chill of a breastplate she'd only seen this close once before. Cullen murmured an apology as she whimpered at the press of his hand to her injured side, disgusting herself with the pathetic sound. Each step he took jolted her painfully, her world narrowing down to the sensation of that jostling run and the howling agony that lanced through her each time he was forced to stop and start again. She was only vaguely aware of the intrusion of Chancellor Roderick's voice as they passed into the Chantry itself, of the panic in the people around them, a panic that intensified as they noted the gentle way the commander laid their injured Herald down in one of the alcoves. She could hear Cullen giving orders, unable to make sense of his words. The world for her was spinning, her vision darkening as she started to slip into the Fade and beyond.

  
Then fresh pain, indescribable in its intensity, flashed through her, dragging her consciousness back from the abyss, jolting her body upright as she turned a snarling glare onto the one responsible.

  
"What the hells was _that?_ "

  
Solas looked up from his contemplation of her wound, relief evident around the edges of his stoic visage. "Healing, _lethellin_ ," he told her calmly. "It is not your time yet."

  
"Felt like my bloody time," she growled, pulling away from his touch to inspect her side for herself. He _had_ healed her, though she had never known a healing to be more painful than the injury before this moment. "Where were you?" she demanded of him. "We needed you out there!"

  
"I have been here," was his reply. "My skills were better suited to the needy than in a battle already lost."

  
"We have _not_ lost this battle yet," Velen insisted, pushing herself onto her feet once again. But for a brief moment of dizziness, she felt fine - a little drained, perhaps, but ready to throw herself back into the fray. "Where are the others?"

  
As she spoke, the heavy doors of the Chantry slammed shut, bolted into place by Sera and Varric in the wake of their friends' entry. Bull was bleeding, his grey flesh pitted with red lyrium crystals across his shoulders. Dorian seemed to have taken no further damage; Cassandra was already pacing, eager to deal more damage to their enemy. Blackwall's shield was rent almost in two, a bitter testament to the sheer raw power the tainted lyrium gave their unexpected foes. The two rogues seemed the least damaged of the bunch, already moving to help Krem restrain the Iron Bull as Vivienne began to remove the shards penetrating his skin.

  
And yet, in the midst of all this chaos, Velen's eyes were drawn to the sight of Chancellor Roderick leaning against a column nearby, his robes soaked with blood. The boy - Cole - stood with him, supporting his weight as best he could, offering the man some small chance to keep his dignity. The boy seemed to feel Velen's gaze on them, turning his watery eyes to meet hers.

  
"He tried to stop a templar," he explained, gesturing to the blood coating the chancellor's robes. "The blade went deep. He is going to die."

  
Roderick let out a weak snort of a laugh. "What a ... charming boy ..."

  
Velen turned toward Solas, intending to ask him to heal Roderick the way he had healed her, only to find the enigmatic elf gone once again.

  
"Funny how he does that, isn't it?" she heard, turning back to find herself caught in a rough embrace from Dorian, of all people. "Don't ever do that again," he told her sternly. "I have no intention of losing my only friend here to inconsiderate debris."

  
"Next time a dragon blows up something near me, I'll duck," she promised, glad to see him smile, however tense the expression was.

  
"See that you do."

  
"Herald!"

  
Recognising the voice calling to her, she turned sharply, relieved to see Cullen still upright and blessedly unhurt. The commander pushed toward her through the crowd of frightened people, a flash of something she couldn't quite grasp in the look he gave to Dorian. Whatever it was, Dorian let go of her rather quickly.

  
"Your side," Cullen began, but she interrupted him with a shake of her head.

  
"Healed," she told him, her tone short but understanding of his concern. Can't have the figurehead dying randomly, after all. "How bad is it out there?"

  
He sighed, rubbing a hand to the back of his neck.

  
"Our position is not good," he admitted, drawing her out of the main bustle, into the pocket of clam that seemed to exist around Chancellor Roderick. "That dragon stole back any time you might have earned us."

  
"I've seen an archdemon." Startled, Velen found herself looking into Cole's strange eyes as he spoke. "I was in the Fade, but it looked like that."

  
"I don't care what it looks like, it's cut a path for that army!" Cullen burst out, lowering his voice when Velen touched his arm. He couldn't afford to be seen losing control, not now. These people needed their leaders calm. "They'll kill everyone in Haven."

  
"The Elder One doesn't care about the village," Cole countered. "He only wants the Herald."

  
It was bad fortune that Cullen was looking into her eyes as these words were said. He saw her response before she could put it into words herself, his brows drawing into a fierce frown.

  
"No," he argued, even as she opened her mouth.

  
"Cullen, you - these people - you're my clan," she reminded him fervently. "I'm your Keeper. If it will save them, he can _have_ me."

  
"It won't," Cole said sadly, watching as unspoken words passed between Herald and Commander. "He wants to kill you. No one else matters, but he'll crush them, kill them, anyway." The boy shuddered. "I don't like him," he added in a plaintive voice.

  
"You don't _like_ -"

  
Whatever Cullen might have gone on to say, Velen stopped him, one hand pressing firmly against his breastplate as Cole shied away from the angry commander.

  
"We don't have time for this," she snapped, needing the commander right now, not the friend. "Is there _anything_ we can do?"

  
Cullen's jaw clenched, but as he looked down at her, she could see the fatalism in his eyes. "Herald ... Velen." He sighed her name, a sound filled with regret. "There are no tactics to make this survivable. The only thing that slowed them was the avalanche. We could ... turn the remaining trebuchet, cause one last slide."

  
To say she was shocked was an understatement. Velen had never thought she would hear her friend, her commander, advocate mass suicide as a viable battle plan.

  
"Cullen, we're overrun," she reminded him, hoping she had heard him wrong. "To hit the enemy, we'd bury Haven."

  
The calm way he met her gaze chilled her to the bone.

  
"We're dying," he told her, the failure heavy in his voice. "But we can decide _how_. Many don't get that choice."

  
"No." She shook her head, denying the cold logic, the understanding that he was right ringing in her ears. "No, there's got to be another way. He wants me; I'll distract him. You can fight your way out, you can -"

  
"Velen." He gripped her shoulders, forcing her to meet his eyes and accept what she found there. "There is no other choice."

  
The full weight of her failure hit her, blurring her vision as she looked away. All these people, looking to _her_ for guidance, for protection - they had taken her in, made her their own, defended her against those who denounced her and now, in their most desperate hour, she had failed them. Their beloved Herald of Andraste had to kill them, just to save them from a worse death. The Inquisition, her clan, had rallied around her, only to die at her hand. Because if they had to do this, _she_ would be the one to loose the rock. It had to be her.

  
"Herald ..."

  
She blinked away her tears, startled by the sensation of a hand grasping at her own with failing strength. Looking down, she found Roderick clinging to her fingers from where he had fallen in a slump against the column. She recalled Cole's words - _he is going to die._ But not just yet, it seemed.

  
"Chancellor Roderick can help," Cole was saying. "He wants to say it before he dies."

  
"There is a path," the man said, every word a struggle as he clutched at Velen's fingers. "You ... wouldn't know it unless you've made the summer pilgrimage ... as I have. The people can escape. She must have shown me ... Andraste must have shown me so ... I could tell _you_."

  
Feeling the faint flicker of hope fighting through her despair, Velen squeezed the chancellor's fingers, lowering herself into a crouch beside him. Cullen hunkered down beside her, both of them focused on this one small chance offered to them by a man who, until this day, had avowed himself their enemy.

  
"What are you on about, Roderick?" she asked gently, for the first time seeing this man as something more than an annoyance to be tolerated.

  
"It was whim that I walked the path," Roderick was saying, unfocused eyes gazing at a memory only he could recall. "I did not mean to start, it was overgrown. Now ... with so many in the Conclave dead, to be the only one who remembers ... I don't know." His gaze suddenly sharpened, his focus returning to the present and the woman before him whom he had so disparaged in recent months. "Herald ... if this simple memory can save us, it could be more than mere accident. _You_ could be more."

  
In that moment, Velen felt her dislike of him fade, knowing she had judged him too harshly. The man she had believed him to be would never have used what might be his final hours to save the lives of everyone who disagreed with him.

  
"What about it, Cullen?" She looked to the man whose choice would decide all their fates. "Will it work?"

  
Cullen frowned thoughtfully. "Possibly ... _if_ he shows us the path."

  
"He will." The confidence in her tone earned her a second look from Cullen, surprised she would put so much faith in one man's memory; it also earned her a weak squeeze from Roderick's fingers, a silent show of gratitude that she could forgive so much for all their sakes.

  
"What of your escape?" the commander asked her.

  
Velen stilled, unable to meet his eyes. To get the people out safely, she would have to draw the full attention of the Elder One, his army, _and_ his dragon. There was no coming back from that, and Cullen knew it.

  
"Perhaps you will surprise it," he offered, making her smile despite their situation. _Surprise a dragon ..._

  
That thought was broken as his gloved hand caught her chin, guiding her gaze to meet his own. There was no thought of defeat in his eyes now, only a fierce intensity that tugged at her heart. "Find a way," he murmured, and despite herself, she felt an unspoken promise rise in her eyes that she would do just that.

  
Satisfied, Cullen nodded, releasing her to turn and organise their people into some semblance of an ordered escape. Velen bit her lip, trying to quell the sudden hammering of her heart as she gathered her wits. She was going to need help, but her instinct was not for the people she trusted most. She wouldn't be able to trust them to abandon her when the time came. Rising to her feet, she surveyed her friends, making her choice with no small regret.

  
"Blackwall, Sera, Vivienne ..."

  
At her gesture, the three disparate companions moved to join her. She averted her eyes from the accusation in Cassandra and Dorian's faces - the two she considered her closest friends of them all - looking to her chosen allies for the fight ahead of her.

  
"I'm the distraction," she told them firmly. "You're going to keep me alive until it works. When I tell you to run, you run and you don't look back. We don't have time to argue this."

  
To their credit, none of the chosen three argued with her. Her closest friends didn't argue with her. The dissenting voice came that rose was Varric's.

  
"What? You're not seriously going back out there!" the dwarf objected vehemently, his eyes wild with panic and ... was that guilt? "You'll die!"

  
"Better me than everyone else," she pointed out to him sternly, knowing he wouldn't have much of an answer to that.

  
To her surprise, it was Dorian who stilled the dwarf's protests, his expression sad. "She won't survive if she's worrying about everyone here getting out safely," he said, talking to Varric but his eyes never leaving Velen's. "So we'll do that for her. And she _will_ survive."

  
"She's Dalish," Bull agreed, hefting his axe. "They're good at that."

  
"She is the Herald of Andraste," Cassandra added fervently. "It is not her time."

  
"We'll make sure of it," Blackwall promised, knowing that Cassandra would not be happy about not accompanying her Herald out there. The Warden knew a great burden of trust was being placed on his shoulders; he could only hope to live up to it.

  
"I'll need some signal to know when you're all safe," Velen then said, her green gaze pleading with Varric.

  
The dwarf held her gaze for a long time, fighting some inner battle she could only guess at, before slowly he gave her a nod of agreement. "Bianca will tell you when it's time," he promised her faithfully, patting the crossbow on his back as he did so.

  
"Thank you. All of you." Velen drew in a deep breath, gathering strength from the sight of them before her. Who knew if she would ever see them again? "Now go - Cullen's going to need you."

  
She barely noticed the way they moved to obey without a second thought, turning back to the three who remained. "We only have one chance at this," she warned them. "We _have_ to get that trebuchet aimed and loaded. I'll stay to fire it."

  
"Darling, you'll be buried with them," Vivienne pointed out gently.

  
"I know," Velen assured her, hoping her voice was as steady as they needed it to be. Vivienne subsided graciously, but she shared a worried glance with Blackwall and Sera as Velen went on. "I've done what they needed me to do. The Breach is sealed. I'm expendable - no one else is. And that includes you three."

  
"So what are we waitin' for?" Sera demanded, impatient to get on with things.

  
Velen nodded. "All right, let's -"

  
"Herald ..."

  
The Dalish elf turned, surprised to find Chancellor Roderick on his feet, leaning heavily on Cole's shoulder. The holy man was pale, trembling as he used the last of his strength to give them all the hope they so desperately needed. His bloodied hand gripped hers, grasping for her attention.

  
"If you are meant for this," he rasped, every breath a torment. "If the Inquisition is _meant_ for this ... I will pray for you."

  
Even in that moment, with so much riding on both of them, Velen knew how much that promise cost him. She was the elf, the heathen, who had subverted his beloved Chantry and lead the faithful astray, and yet here and now, in their darkest hour, he was offering her the only strength he had left to give - the love of Andraste he held in his heart, and the prayers he would send to her for Velen's success. She covered his hand with her own.

  
" _Dareth shiral,_ Roderick," she told him softly, certain this would be the last time they would meet, in this world or the next. "Thank you."

  
She stepped aside to allow Cole to lead Roderick past and into the bowels of the Chantry, to begin leading the innocent and the faithful out of the jaws of death even as he stepped bravely into the darkness beyond life. Her attention was caught by the small gaggle of Inquisition engineers standing anxiously nearby, their eyes on her. Before she could ask, Cullen joined them.

  
"They'll load the trebuchet," he told her. "Volunteers, the lot of them. One agent will remain here in the Chantry until the last possible moment, to guide you to the path. Keep the Elder One's attention until we're above the treeline."

  
She gave him a short nod. "Varric's going to signal me."

  
"Velen ..." His hand caught hers before she could turn away. "If we are to have a chance ... if _you_ are to have a chance ..."

  
Without thinking, she reached up, drawing his brow to hers for a long moment. _In another life, at another time ..._ The Dalish would never allow it, but she was about to die. Did it truly matter who she chose in these last moments of her life? She felt his hands on her, one curling to the back of her neck, the other gripping the broken leather at her hip; felt the brush of his breath against her lips. Did he feel it, too, this strange tug she had been too late to explore? His eyes said he did, and she felt the bitterness of what might have been.

  
Yet the moment was over too soon, both of them drawing back as the shriek of the dragon reverberated through the thick stone walls around them. Cullen stepped away, watching as her group headed for the doors, as they pried the crossbar free and stepped out into the icy chill that awaited them.

  
"Velen," he called to her as she stepped into the snow.

  
She glanced back at him, fiery determination flooding her limbs. He caught her reckless smile, giving her an answer in the echoing curve of his own mouth as the doors swung closed between them.

  
"Make that thing bleed."

**Author's Note:**

> Took me long enough, didn't it? And yes, there will be snowstorm follow up. I tried to blend game dialogue as smoothly as possible with my own - hopefully there's nothing too jarring in there. Title is, again, derived from FenxShiral's Project Elvhen - las, meaning hope. 
> 
> All the good stuff belongs to Bioware, I'm just borrowing the sandpit to play in. :)


End file.
